Stardust
by cinephan
Summary: It's 1946.  Kurt Hummel is a smalltown kid in the big city for the first time.  He meets a trust fund brat with a collection of bohemian friends.  What will become of our young innocent in the big bad city?


**This has been knocking around in my head for weeks now, and I finally had to get it out. I hope someone here enjoys it. This story is set in 1946. The war is very recently over, and America is finally getting back to the things it does best. I figured this would be an interesting setting to place our Glee kids. I'm not sure if it will just be a one shot or not. I have a few ideas for where it might go, but it will depend on interest. If you want to read more about our scrappy kids in postwar NYC, let me know.**

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><p>September 1946<p>

Kurt walked out of the theater into the darkening New York streets. He looked up at the sky and saw clouds gathering. It was six blocks to the subway tunnel. He wondered if he could make it before the torrent started. Shrugging his shoulders, he decided to just brave it. He walked down the street, trying to dodge all of the people who had seen the sky as well and were hurrying to their own destinations.

About three blocks from the tunnel, the sky opened up. Realizing he had to get out of this, Kurt turned down a side street and ran inside a small bookstore he knew of. He figured he could stay here for a little while until the rain stopped.

The clerk behind the counter, a young man in his mid twenties, looked up when he entered. "Hey Kurt." he said, "Looking for anything in particular today?"

"Honestly no." Kurt said, a little embarrassed, "Just hoping to wait out the rain for awhile."

The young man smiled, "Well, take a look around and see if anything interests you."

Kurt nodded and headed into the stacks. The store was very narrow, but went really deep into the block. There were at least ten tall shelves of books.

Kurt wandered through, looking along the shelves. He had so many books back at his apartment he hadn't read yet. He sighed and kept walking, listening to the rain pattering on the roof.

As he circled one set of shelves, he was a little surprised to see someone else in the store with him. It was another young man. Kurt glanced at him at first, then his gaze was dragged back. The young man looked right at Kurt, and Kurt found himself drowning in the deepest, most golden eyes he had ever seen in his life. The boy had jet black hair, which was slicked down to his head. He looked at Kurt and flashed a winning smile. This boy knew he was beautiful and knew how to use it.

Kurt smiled back briefly and kept moving through the rows and rows of books. He turned another corner, looking up at the books on one of the higher shelves, getting lost in his own thoughts. As he moved, suddenly something was in his way, and he tripped and tumbled head over heels, landing right on his back.

He looked up and looked directly into the eyes of the boy he had passed a few minutes earlier. The boy had been kneeling, looking at something on a lower shelf, and Kurt had run right into him and tripped over himself.

The boy stood up, still smiling his big smile and held out a hand to help Kurt up. "I'm sorry." the boy said, "I should have been paying attention."

Kurt took his hand and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet.

"No," Kurt said, "I was the one walking. I should have been looking where I was going. Sometimes, I get caught up in places like this."

"Are you okay?" the boy asked, a look of concern replacing the smile. The golden eyes were still flashing however.

"Physically...fine." Kurt answered, "Just embarrassed." He found himself falling deeper and deeper into those eyes. He felt he needed to look away to avoid getting lost in them forever.

"I'm Blaine." the boy said, holding out his hand, "Blaine Anderson."

Kurt took the hand and shook it. "I'm Kurt Hummel."

"Nice to meet you Kurt. I don't think I've ever seen you in here. I come here all the time. I can't seem to ever find enough books, and this is my favorite shop in the city."

"I come here occasionally. I work so much, though, I feel like I never have enough time to read all of the books I have now."

"What do you do for a living?" Blaine asked. This was a pretty generic question, most people would have asked it after a lead in like Kurt gave, but something in Blaine's eyes made Kurt think that he was genuinely interested in hearing the answer. He seemed to be genuinely interested in anything Kurt had to say.

Slightly embarrassed by the way the other boy was looking at him so intently, Kurt said softly, "I'm working on a show on Broadway, Kick Up Your Heels."

"No kidding?" Blaine said, whistling, "Are you a star? Should I have heard of you?"

"Not even close. I toil backstage. I'm an assistant to the wardrobe mistress."

"Ah," Blaine said, as though that wasn't what he was expecting to hear.

"Is there something wrong with that?" Kurt asked, looking straight at the other boy, silently daring him to make a disparaging remark.

"Of course not." Blaine said, "Everyone gets started somewhere. Hell, any job at a working theater is a great job. Everyone has to start out a youngster before they come back a star." He smiled his bright smile and his eyes flashed and suddenly Kurt forgot to be angry.

Kurt chuckled as Blaine used a line from one of his favorite movies. He sighed and said, "I guess you're right. Sorry I got defensive. Sometimes people tell me things like, 'isn't that a girl's job?' I guess I've just gotten ready for stuff like that."

"Don't worry about those people." Blaine said, "You do what makes you happy, and you're gonna be a great success and those other people will be working for you some day."

Kurt smiled, but looked down at the ground. He couldn't believe this boy he just met was telling him this stuff. No one had ever talked to him like that. He wasn't quite sure what to make of it.

Suddenly Blaine's eyes brightened as though a great thought had occurred to him. "Do you have any plans for the evening?"

Kurt was slightly taken aback by the question, and he said, "Well I was on my way home. My brother is probably waiting for me."

"You live with your brother?"

"Yeah."

"How old is he?"

"Ummm, eighteen."

"Oh, okay. So, he's not a little kid or something? I mean he won't burn the house down if you don't come home."

"Well...sometimes with Finn, there are questions..."

Blaine laughed, and said, "Come to dinner with me."

"Dinner?" Kurt said, shocked again by this boy. His being shocked was beginning to become a pattern of the conversation between the two of them.

"Yes, dinner." Blaine said, "You know, a meal you eat in the evening before the rest of the evening's activities begin."

"Are there going to be activities?" Kurt asked.

"I hope so." Blaine said, "So you coming to dinner?"

"I don't know how much money I have." Kurt said, a little embarrassed.

"Not to worry." Blaine said, "Luckily Daddy's treating this evening."

"We're going to dinner with your father?" Kurt asked, hoping that wasn't what was planned.

"Oh no," Blaine said, "Daddy keeps my bank account well stocked. Come on, I'm gonna show you the evening of your life." He grabbed Kurt's hand and started walking out of the bookstore.

Kurt looked down at the hand grasping his incredulously. This beautiful boy he had just tripped over in a little bookshop was holding his hand and taking him to dinner. This wasn't supposed to happen to him. Things like this didn't happen to little Kurt Hummel.

The rain had stopped as they exited the shop and stepped out onto the street. Once outside, Blaine released his hand. Kurt felt a little pang of sadness at the loss of contact, but it wasn't like two young men could walk down the streets of New York City holding hands. Blaine walked down the street very quickly. He knew exactly where he was going. Kurt had to run a little to keep up.

A few blocks later, Blaine stopped in front of a tiny hole in the wall Italian restaurant. Kurt looked around for some kind of sign and couldn't find one. This was literally the kind of place you'd have to know was there, or you would have no way to find it. When Blaine opened the door and they stepped in, the most wonderful smells assaulted Kurt immediately. Pasta, tomato sauce, all kinds of cheeses. These smells intermingled to create pangs of hunger, Kurt hadn't even known he felt.

When they walked in, Blaine grabbed Kurt's hand again. The resumed contact sent chills of electricity through Kurt's body. Blaine led him to a small table in a back corner.

"This is the best table in the house." Blaine said, "It's right by the kitchen and every time the kitchen door opens, you get a new whiff of what's coming from there. Even when you're finished stuffing yourself, you'll be hungry again."

The two boys sat at the table. Kurt finally had a chance to look around. The place was small, but very cozy. There were about fifteen tables in the whole place. Only two others were occupied, and they were nowhere near the two boys. It was almost like they had the whole place to themselves.

"Not very busy." Kurt said.

"It'll pick up later." Blaine said, "That's why I wanted to come now. I wanted to beat the rush so we could have a little privacy." Blaine looked right into Kurt's eyes as he said that last part.

Kurt looked away and glanced around at the paintings of various small Italian villages on the walls. He had to look at something, anything else besides Blaine's eyes. Kurt knew that this boy would be able to make him do anything if he just gazed into his eyes. Kurt had to keep his wits about him. He couldn't let this boy see how he really felt. There was no way to know how he would react.

"Mr. Anderson." a voice called out.

Kurt looked up to see an older, heavyset Italian man heading toward them. He had gray hair and a big bushy mustache.

"I've told you a hundred times to call me Blaine." Blaine told the older man. He stood up as the man reached the table and gave him a big embrace. "Mr. Anderson is my father. I'm just Blaine." He looked over at Kurt and said, "And this is my new friend Kurt. I had to show him the place with the best Italian food in all of New York. Kurt, this is Vincent. He owns the establishment with the best Italian food in New York."

The man reached out a hand, which Kurt took in his. Kurt's hand was squeezed tightly and shaken up and down with great force as the man laughed heartily. "Any friend of Mr...Blaine is welcome here anytime. So, what can I get you boys?"

"We'll start off with some of your amazing garlic bread and a bottle of the best red you're hiding in the back for special occasions. We need a huge plate of spaghetti, some of that amazing veal parmesan, and maybe a huge helping of that lasagna. I haven't had that yet, but the last time I was here, the couple a table over had it and just smelling it made my mouth water. And we'll need two plates to share everything."

"Coming right up." Vincent said, and he disappeared into the kitchen.

"Spaghetti, veal parmesan, and lasagna?" Kurt asked, not quite believing what he heard.

"That's a good start." Blaine said, laughing.

"Start? That sounds like enough for a week."

"Come on," Blaine said, grabbing Kurt's hand over the table, "We're growing boys. We need a lot of food." He looked right at Kurt and winked, "We may get into some strenuous activity later."

Kurt knew he should pull his hand away. He knew he should get up and walk away from this crazy guy. He was holding Kurt's hand in public. Anyone could see them. This was insane. Kurt had been trying his whole life to avoid anything like this. He managed to remain invisible for most of his life and avoid most trouble. He wasn't like the other guys, but as long as he stayed quiet and kept to himself, most people didn't seem to notice. His father did, but his father had always loved him unconditionally. His father had tolerated whatever he did, or whatever eccentricities he had as long as he kept them in the house and didn't bring them outside or let anyone else know about them. This, however, was completely unheard of.

As if noticing the worry Kurt felt, Blaine unclasped his hand. "I'm sorry." he said, "I didn't mean to upset you. I thought you wouldn't mind."

"Thought I wouldn't mind?" Kurt exclaimed, "What do you take me for? What do you think I am?"

"I'm sorry." Blaine said, his expression falling and the golden eyes clouding, "I just thought..."

Kurt saw the clouds filling those eyes and it tore at his soul to realize he was the cause of that.

Just then, a boy appeared at the table with a basket of bread and a bottle of wine.

When he left, Kurt just looked down at the table for a moment. He looked up, his eyes glistening. "How did you know? I thought I'd hidden it well enough."

Blaine just looked at him. Then, he shrugged his shoulders slightly. "I'm good at reading people. And you fascinate me."

"I do?" Kurt said, barely above a whisper.

"Very much." Blaine said, smiling again, "Tell me about yourself. Tell me where you come from. Tell me how you came to be here."

"There's not much to tell." Kurt said, "I'm from a very small town in Ohio. I'm sure nothing there would interest someone like you."

"One thing from that small Ohio town interests me very much. Keep going. Tell me more."

Kurt sighed. He wasn't sure where to begin. No one had ever asked about him before. "Well, I'm from Lima, Ohio, population...not much. I'm an only child. My father owns a small automobile repair shop."

"Wait," Blaine said, holding his hand up to stop the story for a moment, "An only child? I thought you had a brother?"

"I'm getting to that." Kurt said, smiling, "So, I grew up a little different. I was a little quieter than the other boys, a little shyer. Usually I just ended up spending most of my time with female friends. I read magazines, went to movies avidly. I love musicals."

"Who doesn't?" Blaine said, interrupting again. When Kurt shot him a look, Blaine looked properly admonished and just said, "Sorry."

Kurt continued, "So for most of my life I just tried to stay as invisible as possible. My mother died when I was eight, and my father has done his best to make sure I have as good a life as possible. He loves me...I never doubted that. There were things that he wasn't completely comfortable with, but he did his best. Well, a couple of years ago he met a woman, Carole. She has a son named Finn. My father and Carole got married and now Finn is my brother. Or I guess step-brother would be more accurate. He joined the army about six months before VE Day. He came home after that. He decided to stay here when he was discharged instead of moving back home. So, I'd always wanted to live here. Once he got settled, I asked him if I could come and stay with him here. He said yes, and my father let me since I would be with Finn. I'll be eighteen in a few months. I guess he figured I could just leave then if I wanted anyway. He could tell how important it was to me to get out of that town."

Blaine waited a few moments just to make sure he was done. Once it was clear he was, Blaine said, "Well that was a great story about Finn. I really don't have any more of an idea who you are, though. You need to brush up on your skills in autobiographical storytelling."

Kurt laughed, "Can you do better? Tell me your story."

Just then, the food arrived. It felt like there would be no end to it. Heaps of pasta covered in tomato sauce and cheese filled their table.

Kurt looked at all of this with amazement in his eyes. "Who's gonna eat all of this?" he asked.

"We are. You and I are going to clean all this food up."

Kurt started pulling spaghetti off of the plate in the center and adding it to his currently empty plate. While he did, he said, "You're not getting out of it by the way Mr Your Story Was Terrible. Tell me a better one."

"I never said your story was terrible. I just said it was lacking theme, plot, motivation, character development..."

"You're a goofball." Kurt said, eating a forkful of spaghetti.

"So, do you want to hear the story I usually tell for public consumption or would you rather hear the truth?" Blaine asked.

"How intriguing. Let's try the truth."

"Last time I told a young man the true story, he excused himself to go to the bathroom and I never saw him again."

"Have you hurt anyone?" Kurt asked.

"You mean physically?"

"Yeah."

"No."

"Killed anyone?"

"No."

"Started any wars?"

"Not to my knowledge."

"Then, I don't think I'll be running away."

"The night is still young." Blaine said, putting his fork down and appearing deep in thought. "Well, I'm the only son of Frederick Anderson." He stopped, looking for some reaction from Kurt, and finding none, continued, "I guess you don't follow the financial pages. He's done well for himself in banking. Very well. I grew up in the lap of luxury, anything any child could possibly want, I had. Usually I had it before I even knew I wanted it. More often, I didn't want it. As soon as I started school, I was sent away to boarding schools. I've been thrown out of some of the best schools the world has to offer. Early on I was just trouble, but then I discovered how I was different. I'm sure you've heard the stories about what goes on in boy's boarding schools. Most of it is true. What they don't really talk about though is how much of it is consensual. There's not roving bands of older boys molesting younger ones. More often than not, an older boy takes a younger one under his wing and...teaches him things. Now, there is an understanding that these relationships are situational. Everyone accepts that it is just what is available at the time and what feels good. No one is supposed to make more out of it than just physical pleasure for both participants. Well, that's the part I've always had a problem with. At least back then I did. I had a tendency to fall in love. Luckily I've managed to move past that little defect.

"Falling in love is a defect?" Kurt asked.

"It always has been for me." Blaine said, matter of factly, "So with my love would come letters. Sappy, heartfelt letters, proclaiming my undying love. And these letters always managed to find their way into the hands of the headmasters. You'd think after the first four or five times I would have learned my lesson. But alas..." Blaine took a sip of his wine and continued, "So this went on through most of my early teen years. The last school I got thrown out of was one in Ohio actually, Dalton School For Boys. Well, that was pretty much the last straw for Daddy Dearest. Pretty much. The last straw was when he walked in from work and came up to my room and saw me getting it from both ends by the pool boy and the yard boy. I'm sure part of his reaction stemmed from the fact that they were both Mexicans. That didn't go over well at all. He chased them from the estate with a gun." Blaine paused for a moment, looking at the shocked face of his dinner companion, "I do hope they managed to get away. I was never able to find out. So, he came straight into my room after chasing them out, told me to pack whatever things I wanted to take, he filled up a bank account with money and handed me a checkbook and said I should get out. So, I did...gladly. As long as I'm not in jail or in the papers, he keeps the bank account filled. I imagine that will probably be ending soon."

"Why's that?"

"I turn eighteen in six months. He hasn't told me so, but I wouldn't be surprised if Daddy decides to cut me off when I turn eighteen."

"When did he tell you to leave"

"Right before my sixteenth birthday." Blaine said, his voice flat.

"So what did you do then?"

"Hopped the first cruise ship I could find to get away from America as fast as I could. The war was winding down and I figured I would find a more receptive welcome to someone like me in Europe. First place I got to was England. They don't like our kind there. Then, I went to Paris just as it was being liberated. They do like us there. Then, to Italy. They really like us there. Of course a bottomless bank account full of American money makes anyone look a lot better. Then, I went to Greece. We're like gods there. So, I spent the post war months moving around the world, seeing a lot of destruction and having a lot of fun. And about five months ago I came back here, and I've been bumming around the city since then. Now, I just enjoy myself. No more worries about falling in love or any of that. I've decided it's not worth it. Now, I'm just out to have a good time, and move through life without getting tied down. People like us aren't meant to find love. Society isn't set up that way. So, instead of fighting a losing battle, I've just given in to the reality of my situation."

Kurt looked at him for a minute, his eyes glistening. Then, he reached out and took Blaine's hand in his. Blaine squeezed the hand holding his and his eyes brightened. The rest of the meal passed mostly in silence with the two boys just looking in each other's eyes.

Once they were done eating, most of the food in front of them had disappeared.

Kurt leaned back in his chair, completely stuffed. "I don't think I've ever eaten that much food at one time." He looked at Blaine for a minute. "Do you eat like this all the time?"

Blaine shrugged his shoulders in response.

"Where does it all go? You have an amazing body. Where does this amount of Italian food go?"

Blaine laughed. "Thanks. One of the virtues of being young I guess. I'm sure I won't be able to do this in another twenty years. So, do you have any plans for the rest of the evening?"

"I'm not sure." Kurt said, "Why do you ask?"

"I know this little place I would love to show you."

"Little place?"

"Kind of a nightclub."

"Umm, how are we going to get into a nightclub? Neither of us is eighteen."

"It helps to know the owner." Blaine smiled that million dollar smile at Kurt and as usual melted all of his defenses away.

"I think that smile could get us into just about any place." Kurt said, twirling his wine glass.

"So, are you coming out with me?" Blaine asked, bouncing in his seat like a little boy.

"Can anyone say no to you?"

"Not usually." Blaine answered, a twinkle in his eye.

"Fine." Kurt said, surrendering, "I was hoping to be the first, but I am among the fallen,"

Kurt looked around and noticed how the place had filled while they had been eating. He didn't even notice all of the other people around them arrive.

"So, how did you get your job on the show?" Blaine asked.

"Kind of stumbled into it actually." Kurt answered, twirling his wine glass again, "I went to a show not long after I came to town. I was wandering around the theater after the show, walking around the empty house, around the seats and down to the pit and while I was down there, I could hear shouting from backstage. The wardrobe mistress was yelling at some girl who was working for her about how shoddy her work was and throwing costumes around. Wardrobe mistresses are kind of..."

"High strung?" Blaine finished.

"To say the least. So, I wandered backstage, a completely stupid thing to do by the way. I advise against it. I'm surprised they didn't call the police. I was looking at the costumes and the mistress was right. The work on them was terrible. I picked them up and went to the wardrobe lady and proclaimed that I could do the job correctly if she hired me. She said if I could repair all of the leading lady's costumes that night I would have a job. So, I did. My fingers were practically bleeding by morning, but all of the costumes were redone. When the wardrobe lady came in the next morning, she hired me right there and said she would never work on a show without me. She got a job on the show running now and brought me with her. And here I am. I'm in the glamorous world of show business. That world for me consists of sewing sequins back on the costumes of a crazy leading lady who must tear them off one by one every single night. I don't know what she does exactly, but half of the outfit is in shreds when she walks offstage at curtain."

Blaine laughed. "Leading ladies can be...difficult."

"You've known some?" Kurt asked, intrigued.

"A few." Blaine said, "You're not the only fan of that business they call show."

Kurt chuckled. "Is that right? And what have you done in show business Mr. Anderson?"

Blaine cringed at that name. Kurt just snickered at the reaction.

"Well, though I've never done it professionally, I do like to sing." Blaine answered.

"Is that right? Wow, there are other levels to you."

"You have no idea." Blaine said, finishing off the glass of wine in front of him, "I'm very deep and complex."

Kurt laughed out loud in response to that.

"I am." Blaine said, feigning offense, but his grin gave him away. "So, you almost ready to go?"

"Yes."

"Then lets have at it." Blaine pushed his chair back and moved around to pull Kurt's out for him.

"What a gentleman." Kurt said, standing up.

They walked toward the door. As they headed out, something occurred to Kurt.

"Aren't we paying?" Kurt asked.

"I have a tab here." Blaine explained, "I hate carrying cash. Vincent sends me a bill at the end of every month with a gratuity added, and I just pay that at the end of every month."

"I've never heard of a restaurant with a tab." Kurt said.

"Well, you saw when we arrived they know me here. Vincent knows me. He knows I'm good for it."

Kurt just shook his head. "Everything's easy for Blaine."

Blaine turned to look at him, his eyes serious. "Trust me, it hasn't always been roses." he said, "There have been times I've lost more than I ever gained. I just try to be a little decent. I figure I have the resources, I might as well make them work for me. I don't hurt anyone. Have I treated you badly?"

Kurt looked down, chastened. "No, of course not. You've been a perfect gentleman. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings."

"I know I'm just a spoiled rich kid." Blaine said, "I know I haven't contributed anything of any real value to the world and probably never will. But I don't hurt people. I may not make the world a better place, but I'd like to try not to make it any worse either."

Kurt was stung by those words. He grabbed Blaine by the hand and pulled him out of the restaurant. They moved to the street and a few yards down from the restaurant they found an alley. Kurt pulled the other boy into the alley and they moved deep into it. Kurt moved them against a wall out of view of the street. He wrapped his arms around the other boy pulling him into a tight embrace.

"I'm so sorry." Kurt said, holding Blaine to him.

Blaine responded tentatively and moved to put his arms around Kurt.

"Are you okay?" Kurt whispered into Blaine's ear.

"I don't usually do this." Blaine said, "I mean I've had sex, but I haven't done this very much."

"You haven't just held someone?"

"Not unless it was required to go further." Blaine said, softly. "Wow, that's pretty sad isn't it?"

Kurt pulled back to look the other boy in the eye. "You need to stop doing that." he said, "You're not sad. Your life isn't sad. I mean you live it the way you want. I guess that's your right. It does seem kind of lonely. What will you do when your father cuts off the money?"

Blaine pulled Kurt back into the embrace as though he wouldn't ever let him go again. "I'll probably starve to death underneath a bridge somewhere."

"Don't be silly. What do you want to do? Before all this stuff happened with your father, what did you want to do with your life?"

Blaine sighed, "The last thing I remember wanting to be was a cowboy when I was eight."

"Somehow I don't think that's an option." Kurt said, smiling, "We'll work on it."

"We?" Blaine said, a little surprised.

"Perhaps."

They moved out of the embrace and walked together out of the alley. They walked slowly down the street and Blaine moved to hail a cab.

"Where are we going?" Kurt asked.

"The Village." Blaine said.

A cab stopped a moment later and Blaine held the door open for Kurt to get in first. The ride was pretty quick since the streets were mostly empty at this time of night. When they reached the destination, Blaine pulled a few bills out of his pocket and paid the cab.

"I thought you didn't carry cash." Kurt said.

"Cabs don't have tabs." Blaine explained, "And I don't ride subways."

"Must be nice."

"It is."

The street where they got out was mostly deserted. A lot of closed for the day storefronts, not much else. Kurt looked around for something that looked like a club and couldn't find anything. Blaine led them to an alley and they started down it. This alley was almost pitch black.

Starting to get uneasy, Kurt said, "You're not gonna kill me in this alley, are you?"

"Nah," Blaine said, his voice light, "If I was gonna kill you, I'd take you to the river."

"That makes me feel so much better."

"How would I ever get your body out of this alley if I killed you here?" Blaine said, enjoying messing with Kurt at this point.

"Well, I haven't really tried to plot out that scenario, so I'm sure I don't know."

Blaine laughed, "You're so easy to get going."

He led Kurt to a doorway in the alley. This was even better concealed than the restaurant. Kurt wondered to himself how Blaine knew of all these places. Blaine knocked on the door and a tiny door about face level opened, and a face appeared in the opening. Blaine spoke to the face for a moment, then the door opened and Blaine ushered Kurt in.

They walked into a very small, very smoky nightclub. Kurt looked around. There were about twenty small tables with two chairs at each one. A tiny bar was in one corner and a stage was recessed into the wall opposite the door they entered. At the back of the stage was an orchestra pit where a band was playing filler music. On the main floor, just off the right side of the stage was a piano. Not a full grand piano, but a good size one.

Kurt turned to Blaine, "Let me guess, some girl singer will be on top of that piano sometime this evening?"

"If we're very lucky and she's in a good mood, yes." Blaine answered, matter of factly. "I'm hoping. No one kills a torch songs like she does."

"She?"

"You'll see. Come on, there's a table there."

They wound through the tables. Kurt was surprised to see most of the place was nearly full considering it certainly wasn't easy to find. There was quite a mixture of people. There were a couple of older people, one young couple, one black couple, and the rest were around middle age. Some of the people were well-dressed, and a few simply had jeans and work shirts. It was an interesting crowd.

They sat at a table that was not far from the stage in the front row. As they sat, Kurt finally got a chance to really look around. He noticed a large sign on one wall, about the only real decoration in the whole place. The sign said in huge red letters, SCHUESTER'S.

"Is that the name of the place?" Kurt asked, indicating the sign

"Kind of." Blaine said.

"Shouldn't that sign be on the outside?"

Blaine chuckled and said, "You would think so, wouldn't you? The guy who runs this place, Will Schuester, doesn't really want a lot of attention. He thinks it detracts from the acts which is what people should be concentrating on. I brought him that sign one day and tried to get him to put it up outside. He wouldn't. So, we compromised, and it went up in here. Will says the place doesn't have a name. He just calls it...the place. He wants this to be a place that fosters young talent, and he says he's not looking for any glory for himself."

"I see." Kurt said, obviously not seeing, but deciding to just play along.

The band stopped playing and the curtain closed.

"The show's about to start." Blaine explained, he waived a cocktail waitress over and ordered two drinks.

Kurt's attention was focused on the small stage, wondering who was going to appear when the curtain opened.

The band began playing a few notes and Blaine's face lit up when he recognized the song.

"I love when she opens with this." he said, bouncing up and down in his seat like he did at dinner.

The song was familiar to Kurt, but he couldn't place it.

Then a voice came from behind the curtain...

_Frankie and Johnny were sweethearts._

_Oh how they could love..._

Immediately the crowd was on it's feet, including Blaine and Kurt.

The curtain opened and a very full figured young black girl in a black evening gown was leaning insouciantly against the left side of the stage. She kept on singing, this amazing voice coming from deep down inside.

Kurt leaned over to Blaine and said, "I love this song."

"No one does it like Mercedes." Blaine said, his eyes never leaving the stage.

After she was finished with the first number, she looked out and noticed Blaine in the audience and her face lit up. She gave him a quick wink before launching into her second number, "My Man," the Fannie Brice standard. She had the audience in the palm of her hand by the end of the song. She got another standing ovation before she moved into her last number, "Stormy Weather."

Kurt listened carefully. The only version of this song he knew was Ethel Waters classic, and he was very protective of that one. He was amazed, though as he listened to this young woman, probably no older than he was, tear the song up. He was almost in tears by the time she was done.

Watching him, Blaine reached over and clasped his hand on the table. Seeing the reaction from Kurt, Blaine explained, "Don't worry. No one in here cares. See this mix of people in here? No one noticing anyone else's differences. No one will care if you and I hold hands." He felt Kurt relax slightly.

When she was done, the audience rose in their last ovation for her. She took a bow and absorbed all of the love from the tables, a big smile on her face. She stepped back and the curtain closed.

"She was amazing." Kurt said, sitting back down after applauding loudly, a huge smile on his face.

"Indeed." Blaine said, sitting down as well and reaching out to hold Kurt's hand again.

A few minutes later, Mercedes appeared from a small door off the stage Kurt hadn't even noticed before. She moved directly to their table. Blaine stood as she appeared and they gave each other a huge hug.

"I hoped you'd be here tonight." she said, as she pulled back from the hug, "A show isn't complete without my favorite skinny white boy at the front table." She glanced over and saw Kurt sitting there. "And who is this?"

Kurt stood, and she offered her hand to him. He took her hand and kissed it gently.

"This is Kurt." Blaine said, "Kurt, may I present Mercedes Jones, the best blues slash jazz singer in all of New York City."

"You were amazing." Kurt effused, "You made me forget Ethel Waters even sang 'Stormy Weather.'"

"Wow," she said, "Thanks. That's an amazing compliment." She turned to Blaine, "You two staying for the whole show?"

"Of course." Blaine said.

"The spitfire is up next. I've gotta get outta this monkey suit." she said, "I'll be back in a few minutes." She kissed Blaine on the cheek and disappeared back through the door she came out of.

Just then, the band struck up again. The chords of another familiar tune started and the curtain opened slowly. A woman in a long, red satin gown stood with her back to the audience. She turned around and began to sing the lyrics to "Why Don't You Do Right?" She was a stunningly beautiful latina girl. She was also very young.

As she purred the words to the song, Kurt felt her voice creeping up his spine. He closed his eyes to just sink down into her rough phrasing.

Blaine looked over at him with a smile on his face. "Like smooth whiskey going down your throat." he said, "It burns so good. Santana's voice can do that to a man. Many a man has had the same reaction you are now."

"She's...she's..." Kurt just stuttered.

"Indeed." Blaine said, "She _is_ indeed."

As she sang the song, she glided across the stage to the small set of steps off to one side. She crept down the steps and moved out into the audience. She saw Blaine immediately and moved to him and sat in his lap, singing to only him. Every man in the audience hated Blaine at that very moment. She looked over and saw Kurt sitting there, his eyes glued to her. She smiled at Blaine and moved over to sit in Kurt's lap. She continued the song, purring into Kurt's ear. He closed his eyes and melted into his chair. She glanced over at Blaine, a smile on her face. She loved getting that reaction from men. She moved through the audience and picked various men to sing to. As she reached the end of the song, she moved to the front of the club. She ended the song, standing by the piano.

As she ended the song, Mercedes reappeared from backstage in a much more casual dress that looked much more comfortable. She grabbed a chair and sat at Blaine and Kurt's table.

Then, the band began the opening strains of "My Heart Belongs to Daddy." This was a slow version of the song. The song which was usually cute and teasing, in Santana's hands became sensual and highly eroticized. She glanced over at Blaine, who was up from his chair in a moment and lifted her onto the piano. She sang the rest of the song from the top of the instrument. As she approached the end of the song, she gave Blaine a look again and he moved to lift her off of the piano. She slowly moved back up onstage and sang the last notes there.

She finished her set with "That Old Black Magic," again singing that song slow and languorous. Her low register giving the lyrics a meaning probably never intended by the composer.'

When she was done and had taken her bows, the curtain closed and Kurt looked over at Blaine, "Holy cow." he said.

"Yeah, they're both pretty amazing." Blaine said, "Kind of a drastic change for the next act, though. Even if you don't like the music, there will be something nice to look at."

While they waited for the next act, the little door to the backstage opened again and Santana scooted out, her outfit much more casual now, and moved to their table as well. She grabbed a chair and sat next to Mercedes.

The curtain opened and the band was gone. There were two young men sitting on tall stools with guitars on their laps. One of the boys was pale with shaggy blond hair hanging in his face. The other was darker complected with his hair shaved into a mohawk. Together they played three songs Kurt had never heard before. Presumably original compositions. They were good, though. They played traditional music. In twenty years people would be calling their style folk music.

"Not bad." Kurt said, looking over at Blaine, during the boys' set.

"Sam and Noah." Blaine explained, "Everyone calls Noah Puck, though."

Blaine excused himself and wound his way through the tables to head to the restroom.

Santana looked over at Kurt for a minute.

He felt her gaze on him and turned to look at her. "Is something wrong?"

"You seem sweet." she said, "He's gonna hurt you."

"I beg your pardon?" Kurt asked, taken aback by her bluntness.

"You like him a lot." she said, "I can see it whenever you look at him."

Mercedes turned and nodded agreement with this sentiment.

"He's gonna hurt you bad." Santana repeated.

"I just met him today." Kurt said, "He can't hurt me. I don't have any feelings for him."

"Blaine is one of the sweetest guys I've ever known." Santana said, "I love him with all my heart. He's one of my best friends. But he's trouble if you truly give him your heart. He doesn't love like the rest of us do. He's one of the best friends you'll ever know, but if you let him have your heart he's gonna tear it out."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Kurt said, unable to look either of them directly in the eye, "We had dinner and now we're having fun at a club. There's nothing else going on."

"You're a nice guy." Santana said, "But he won't be there in the morning when you wake up. He never is."

"You sound like you speak from experience." Kurt said.

Just then, Blaine appeared back at the table and the conversations shifted back to less controversial topics.

When the boys were done onstage, the curtain closed again.

"Tina on tonight?" Blaine asked.

"Nah." Santana said, "Mike's not feeling well. She's staying home to nursemaid him. Feh, that's what happens when you let yourself get tied down to some guy. You end up missing your shows to take care of him."

"Maybe they're in love." Mercedes said.

Santana just rolled her eyes at that.

Sam and Puck came out of the stage door and came over to their table as well. Sam moved a chair behind Mercedes backwards, straddled the chair and wrapped his arms around her. Puck moved over to Santana's chair, stood there waiting for a minute, then snapped his fingers at her. She rolled her eyes and stood up. He sat down in her place and patted his lap. She sat down in his lap.

Kurt watched all of this with his ten thousandth shocked face of the night. He looked over at Sam and Mercedes with a special amount of surprise.

Blaine chuckled at him and said to the table, "He's from a small town. He hasn't been here that long."

Everyone just nodded in response to that.

The curtain opened on the stage again and the band was back in place and they just played soft atmospheric music for the rest of the night.

Kurt looked over at Santana and Puck, "So what happened to not getting tied down to some man?" he asked.

"Oh we're not tied down." she replied, "We just fuck."

"Excuse her sailor mouth." Mercedes said, her turn to roll her eyes, "Just ignore most of the stuff she says, the rest of us do."

Santana waved her hand dismissively at Mercedes and continued, "I'm into girls, but I'm not seeing anyone and I don't like to sleep alone. So, Puck climbs on, pounds for a little while and when he's done I have a warm body to sleep next to for the rest of the night. It's a win/win."

Kurt looked at Puck who shrugged his shoulders and nodded agreement.

Blaine sat back and enjoyed the sight of his friends continuing to make Kurt's mouth hang agape. After about another forty-five minutes of conversation, which Kurt slowly relaxed to, Blaine stood up and said, "You people have exhausted me. I think we're heading out."

Kurt made a token protest, but this was later than he was normally out and he was starting to get very sleepy. He stood up as well.

"You taking him to one of your many hotel rooms?" Santana asked. She looked at Kurt, "He's got hotel rooms all over town so he never has to go very far with one of his conquests."

"Santana!" Mercedes said, "Shut it!"

"I'm just telling the truth." the latina girl said, a smile on her lips.

"Sometimes the world doesn't need that much truth." Puck said, "They're big boys. They can do what they want."

Blaine and Kurt said their goodbyes and walked out of the club. They left the alley and turned onto the street and kept walking. They walked a few blocks very quickly and came back to a busier part of town. They reached a hotel, and Blaine stopped.

Kurt looked at the entrance to the hotel tentatively. "Do you have a room here?" he asked

"I do." Blaine answered, "Would you come up with me?"

Kurt thought for a moment. He knew the best possible idea would be to just say goodnight to Blaine and keep walking to the subway and go home. He thought about what Blaine had said at dinner. He thought about what Santana had told him in the club, which just filled in some of the blanks of the things Blaine had said at dinner. Here they were at the doorway of a hotel, and Blaine was asking him to come up to his room. Kurt had never done anything like this with anyone. He was still a virgin. Here he was with a boy he had just met who wanted to take him up to a hotel room for God knows what. He sighed as all of this whirled around in his head.

"You don't have to." Blaine said, "I'll understand if you say no. I'd like for you to come up with me, though."

Then Kurt made his fatal error. He looked up and looked Blaine in the eyes. He looked into those eyes that melted him every time. He sighed and nodded. Blaine grasped his hand and squeezed it for a moment, then he released it.

The two boys walked into the hotel. Blaine went to the front desk and gave his name. The clerk at the desk handed him a key. He turned back to Kurt and led him to the elevator. They rode the elevator in silence. When they reached the room, Blaine unlocked the door and stepped back to allow Kurt to enter.

Kurt stepped into a suite. This was the most amazing hotel room he had ever seen. It looked like a small apartment. The living area was fully furnished and there were two doors off of the room, presumably to the sleeping areas.

Blaine grasped his hand and walked into the master bedroom with him.

In the master bedroom, Kurt saw a huge king size bed. He looked at the bed tentatively.

Blaine moved over to a chest of drawers and opened one drawer. He pulled out a set of pajamas which he handed to Kurt in silence.

Kurt took them and went into the bathroom to change.

When he walked out, he saw Blaine had changed himself into a pair of pajamas as well. Kurt moved over to where Blaine sat at the edge of the bed. He moved to Blaine and put his hand on the boy's shoulder.

Blaine stood and wrapped his arms around Kurt's waist and tilted his head into a soft, gentle kiss. His tongue slowly moved into Kurt's mouth, waiting for Kurt to allow entrance. Kurt had never done anything like this before, his mouth opened slightly and his tongue moved to meet Blaine's. Blaine moved his head down to gently kiss and suck on Kurt's neck, drawing out soft whimpers from the inexperienced boy.

Blaine moved back and looked Kurt deep in his eyes. "If I ask you something, will you promise not to think I'm totally crazy?"

"I can't make any promises," Kurt answered, "But after this night it would take a lot to seem any crazier."

"Will you just hold me tonight? That's all I want for tonight. I'd just like for you to hold me."

Kurt was definitely not expecting this. Then, he said the first thing that popped into his head, "Is there something wrong with me?"

Blaine looked confused for a minute.

"Well, I was just thinking that since you bring your conquests here and if you don't want more than holding, there must be something I'm missing that all those other boys have. So, I was wondering if there is something wrong with me."

"Oh God no." Blaine said, "Quite the opposite actually. I bring boys to these rooms to have sex with them because that's all I'm interested in with them. It's different with you. You're much more special, and was hoping you would be willing to just hold me tonight."

Kurt looked at him and saw he was serious. He moved to the bed and pulled back the covers. He motioned for Blaine to get in the bed. Then, Kurt followed him. Kurt laid there for a second. Blaine moved to him and wrapped his arms around the other boy. Blaine nestled up to him and rested his head in the crook of Kurt's arm.

Kurt looked down at him for a minute, then said, "You okay."

"Better than I have been in a long time." Blaine answered, "I feel okay for the first time in a long time. Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Kurt answered, surprising himself a little, "Yeah, this feels right somehow."

Kurt reached over and turned the lamp next to the bed off and nestled in with the boy wrapped around him.

Then, softly, Kurt said, "Will you be here in the morning when I wake up."

The reply came almost as softly.

"I hope so."


End file.
